


Fucking witches

by LikeAllLoversAndSadPeople



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Sam Winchester, First Time, Homophobic Language, M/M, Season/Series 11, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24462526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeAllLoversAndSadPeople/pseuds/LikeAllLoversAndSadPeople
Summary: Sam and Dean are taking a break from dealing with the impending threat of the Darkness by tracking a witch on a vengeance killing spree. When they finally catch up with her, though, they're forced to deal with some unresolved tension between them and they discover each other in a way they never thought was possible.Set in season 11 at no particular time or place.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Fucking witches

**Author's Note:**

> I'm getting back into this tv show and those two, seriously... How can you not ship them, I ask you? 
> 
> Explicit warning for later chapters. Tags will be updated as I go along, but feel free to point out any missing ones!

“Damnit Sam, couldn’t you have found us a better case?”

“You were the one who wanted to get your mind off the Darkness, Dean. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, but witches, man?”

Dean can practically feel Sam’s eye roll next to him, even though he’s keeping his eyes on the road. 

“It was a murder spree. How was I supposed to know it would turn out to be a witch?”

“You’re research boy, it’s your job to know.”

“Really, Dean?”

Sam’s voice is reaching that pitch again that means he’s completely fed up with his big brother, so Dean decides to avoid a flat out fight and resorts to silent brooding instead. 

It’s just Dean’s luck that the most promising case they’ve had for months turned out to be a murderous witch who apparently likes travelling. So now they’re on their third day of trying to track the bitch down and arriving just slightly too late every time. 

It usually takes them a while to figure out what’s happening when they arrive at a potential supernatural crime scene. Not with her, though. This one practically broadcasted her motive. On every body she’d written what crimes the victims had committed. This ranged from not opening the door for her to trying to rape her at a party. 

Pair that with the witness statement they got from a bartender about a young woman going on about her break-up and how all men are pigs and deserve to die, they pieced the rest together pretty neatly. 

Dean is bit disappointed, really. She doesn’t even let them have the satisfaction of the chase. This is such a straight-forward case of revenge, it’s pathetic. Actually, come to think of it, it’s more pathetic they still haven’t been able to catch her after chasing her through four towns.

By now, she most likely knows she has hunters on her trail, because she never stays somewhere for more than one night. Dean’s not worried, though, because Sam had traced the car she’d stolen in the last town to another slightly bigger city about three hours away.

Which is how it happened that Dean is once again driving his baby through the night without getting any sleep or decent food. He’s definitely getting too old for this shit. 

It’s past eleven PM before they finally arrive and Dean pulls up at a greasy spoon not far from the city. 

“We’re stopping here?” Sam asks when he finally looks up from his cell phone. 

“Well duh, bitch. I’m hungry.”

“Whatever, jerk.”

Sam gets out of the car without another word. Dean sighs and follows him inside. These past few inactive days stuck in a car with Dean are apparently wearing Sam down more than he’d let on. 

The diner’s cleaner than it looks from the outside and is almost completely empty except for a few truckers drinking coffee. 

Dean turns to the waitress with his most winning smile and enjoys the blush he receives in return.

“Evening, sweetheart. Can we still get some food here?”

“Sure you can. Just grab yourself a table and I’ll be right there.”

She winks at him – honest to god winks – and turns to grab the coffeepot for another customer. He takes a moment to enjoy her well-rounded ass while she does that. She’s can’t be much older than twenty, much too young for him, but it’s nice to entertain the fantasy for a moment. 

Dean’s always had a type. The bold ones, up for some light-hearted flirting but still with that air of small-town innocence. They don’t just fall into bed with anyone, instead they require a bit of wooing. It’s always worth the effort, though, to see them quiver beneath him, stripped down and exposed. 

It’s been ages since he’s had some female company. He tells himself it’s because they’ve had so much shit going on, but that’s doesn’t quite cover it. 

The truth is, Dean really is getting older. He’s pushing forty and that scares the crap out of him. He never really expected to live this long. It’s not the getting old part that’s bothering him so much, though. It’s all the things he’s missed out on over the years. His twenties were spent in so much denial, trying so hard to uphold his precious reputation, that he never really got to let go. His brother would disagree of course, pointing out the countless pool games, drunken nights and flirtatious evenings spent at some dirty biker bar. But those things were safe to do. They enforced the idea of Dean as a complete badass, stone-cold killer, hunter extraordinaire. 

There are plenty of things he’s never tried, plenty of people he’s turned down, because he was afraid it would ruin that image. Growing up with their Dad as sole influence on what it meant to be a man, it’s no wonder that Dean adopted some pretty old-fashioned ideas. Sammy never understood that. He’d been different from the beginning; more sensitive, an independent thinker. 

Dean loved being a big brother when he was growing up. He loved being the protector, the one that Sam turned to when he had questions or heartache or anger building inside him. Dad was never that person for Sammy. And even though Dean hated it when his two favorite people fought, he had to admit to himself that he liked being the most important person in little Sammy’s life. 

So when Sam, thirteen and still growing like a weed, had turned to him one evening with that serious look in his eyes he sometimes got when he really needed his big brother’s attention, Dean had stopped cleaning his gun for a moment. 

“Dean… I think I might be gay.”

Dean was stunned at this revelation. He’d never so much as suspected his Sammy to bat for the other team. Every stereotype he’d known flashed through his head and left him even more confused, because Sam wasn’t some giggling twink or flamboyant drag queen. He was strong and smart, a hunter just like Dean. There must be some kind of mistake.

All these years later, Dean is still filled with a hot rush of shame when he thinks about his first reaction to Sam’s confession. He should’ve been better, more accepting, more casual about it. Instead he’d felt his face turn red and had managed to stammer: “W-what makes you think so?”

“Dunno… I mean, I guess I don’t hate girls or anything. But I feel like I notice boys more often? And when I – you know – in the shower or something, I usually think about um, well, not girls… I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with a boy or something. But I think I might be, some day.”

“God Sammy, that’s a lot to spring on a guy. I never knew – I mean I never thought – I mean, you don’t look like a… a…”

“Like what, Dean?”

Sam’s voice had changed, become harder. He was getting angry, Dean could tell, and still he couldn’t keep his big mouth shut.

“You don’t look like a poof, is all I’m saying. I mean, I notice a guy’s ass sometimes, that doesn’t mean I’m gay. It’s not because you enjoy looking at dicks from time to time that you have to be gay. ”

Sam threw him a hurt, disappointed look and stalked off. Dean was left sitting at their kitchen table with an enormous hole of confusion and regret in his chest.

A few days after that incident, they’d talked again and Dean had given his little brother the speech he should’ve given in the beginning. How it was totally fine to feel that way, how Sam was still Sam and nothing could change the way his family felt about him. How he could like whomever he wanted, even if it turned out to be both girls and boys. Sam’s anger disappeared after that, but Dean couldn’t help but think something had changed between them. 

Sam never did bring a boy home with him. There were several incidents where Dean interrupted some hot make-out sessions on the couch of their motel-of-the-month, but it was always Sam and some giggling, wide-eyed girl who sprang apart. Dean asked him about it once, if he’d ever been with a boy, and Sam had looked a bit bashful while he’d nodded his head. He didn’t offer up any more information, so Dean let it rest. 

“Dean! What are you doing?”

Dean is shaken out of his reverie by the annoyed voice of his little brother. Sam’s sitting in a corner booth and trying to get his attention while Dean is still standing at the counter, staring at the coffee pot holder. 

He shrugs it off, mentally berating himself for getting hung up on old stuff, and joins Sammy in the booth. 

Sam still is still wearing his patented bitch face, so Dean guesses he’s not yet out of the dog house.

“Isn’t she a little young for you, Dean?”

“A man can dream, can’t he? Besides, some girls like the whole Daddy thing.”

He grins lecherously at Sam, trying to get a rise out of him.

“Gross, Dean! She could be your actual daughter.”

Dean’s smirk falls away. Yeah, maybe not. 

Sam turns his attention on the menu, but Dean can’t quite stop staring at his brother. Sometimes he forgets that Sam is almost halfway through his thirties as well. The man sitting in front of him looks nothing like the gangly boy he pulled out of college ten years ago. 

They’ve both been through too much and it hurts Dean to think about it. In Dean, it’s manifested itself in creaky knees and worry lines around his eyes. In Sam, it shows in the downward slope of the corners of his mouth and the wrinkles on his forehead. 

Most days, Sam doesn’t really feel like a sibling to him anymore. He remembers all the times they’ve lost and then found each other, all the times they’ve betrayed each other and how long it took to regain that trust. He remembers with painful clarity when Sam told him they couldn’t be brothers anymore. It was the closest he’d ever come to giving up. They’ve had to build up their relationship so many times it must resemble one of those ancient trees by now, with all the rings accumulating until there’s too many to count. Dean doesn’t know how to describe what Sam is to him, but brother is a word that falls woefully short.

“Stop staring at me, dude.”

“Just admiring your lush locks, princess.”

Sam flips him the finger without looking up from his menu. Dean grins. He likes the way his brother always knows when Dean’s gaze is on him. 

When the waitress comes by, Dean engages in some light flirting and orders a cheese burger for himself. Sam purses his lips in disapproval and orders an omelet. The girl smiles at them both and turns away, maybe swaying her hips a little more than is considered proper.

“You do realize how creepy you’re acting, right?”

“Will you get off my back, Sammy? It’s not like I’m actually planning on fucking her.”

“You better not be.”

Dean looks at Sam again, this time puzzled. What has got his panties in a twist? His brother usually doesn’t have much of an opinion about the girls he picks up. 

“Are you feeling neglected, Samantha? Should I ask her to take care of you instead?”

Dean grins when a blush creeps over Sam’s cheeks. It takes a lot to make Sam blush these days and Dean delights in it. 

“No, Dean. Unlike you, I’m not attracted to jailbait.”

“Ah, Sammy. Your lips say no, but your rosy cheeks say otherwise.”

“Stop jumping to conclusions, it’s embarrassing for both of us.”

Dean frowns. What conclusions is he making? Before he can get into it much further, the girl is back with their drinks. He thanks her distractedly without looking away from Sam and misses the disappointed look she throws him.

Sam gets out his phone and continues his search for stuff that might help when they do finally catch up with the bitch. It doesn’t take long for him to become fully immersed once again. Dean sighs and turns his attention to the rest of the diner occupants. 

Two broad-chested guys are sitting at a small table together, nursing their coffee and exchanging a few words from time to time. One of them reminds Dean so strongly of Bobby it makes him miss the gruff hunter all over again. 

Stuff like that never really goes away. Even after all these years, the loss of their mother, their father, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Benny and Kevin still grates him. Not to mention Charlie, whose brutal murder is still very fresh in Dean’s memory. The grief is still there, though the anger towards Sam has mostly dissipated. He knows what it is to go blindly into something to save your brother.

He looks away from the guys, afraid they’ll catch him staring. What has brought on this horrible sentimental mood? It’s like he can’t help but be reminded of his past everywhere he goes. It annoys him, to have his feelings so close to the surface. It makes him feel exposed, vulnerable.

It’s a relief when the food comes, so he can actually focus on something in the here and now. The cheeseburger is good, too, which isn’t always the case in diners like this one. He groans loudly, feeling a bit of grease drip out of the corner of his mouth, onto the plate.

When he opens his eyes again, it’s to find Sam staring at him. The look is something between irritation and… something else. Dean can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Wha-?” he asks with a mouth full of burger.

Sam just rolls his eyes and turns his attention on his own meal. Dean shrugs to himself and sets to devouring the delicious burger in front of him. 

All this fruitless hunting is leaving him on edge and craving. What exactly he’s craving, he couldn’t say, but eating seems like a good solution, at least. 

He picks up a fry and flicks it at Sam, hitting him right in the nose. Sam looks up again, irritation more clear now, and Dean grins at him. Pissing off his little brother always makes him feel better. 

“Only checking if you were alive, Sammy.”

“Just eat your burger, Dean. And maybe close your mouth when you’re chewing.”

“Oh please, like you haven’t gotten used to my eating habits by now.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t still find them disgusting.”

“I don’t know, most people like looking at my mouth when I’m eating.”

Dean’s grinning wide now, egging on his brother. He’s expecting a comeback, having left the goal wide open for all sorts of gay jokes, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, Sam just blushes and tears into his omelet like he’s… Well, like he’s Dean. 

Huh.


End file.
